Tony and the Tiny Little Fiend
by onoheiwa
Summary: Steve temporarily brings home a cat and Tony isn't quite as upset about it being on his countertop as he thought he would be and more upset over Steve taking it to a shelter than he wants to be. Everyone else is less surprised than they should be and is more pleased than they're willing to admit.
1. Chapter 1 Tony

There was a kitten on the countertop.

Wait, what?

He looked again. No, that was right. In the center of the island in the communal kitchen, sitting primly on its dainty paws, was a kitten. It was black and gray and its fur looked soft and clean, although a little wet around the edges. Its green eyes were bright and sharp, not flitting around to take in its surroundings but focused and intense.

It was staring at him, sending a slight tremor down his spine.

See, he wasn't exactly afraid of cats, per se, but they had sharp claws and their teeth were like needles and they always seemed to have extremely bad tempers. And they were gross too. Hacking up hairballs, peeing on everything, leaving dead animals laying around, bits of feathers and blood stuck to their fur. Disgusting. So yeah. Cats. Not on his list of favorite animals.

And here was one, in the flesh, on his countertop. Where food goes. It didn't really matter that the thing looked freshly bathed, especially if the wet fur and damp towel by the sink was anything to go by. It was an animal and it should not be in his kitchen. Shouldn't even be inside at all, really. The thing had no right to be here and he would get rid of it, he had to.

He wasn't going to touch it, however, no way. Not a chance. He wasn't getting anywhere near those claws. So he couldn't just carry it down the elevator. He wasn't cruel enough to just pitch it off the balcony either. He may hate the things, but he wasn't mean. Regardless, he wasn't going to touch. Maybe he could scoop it into something? Push it off the countertop and into an empty box? If it was hungry he could coax it down and out of the apartment. But what the hell did kittens even eat? Milk? Dead birds? The blood of innocent children? Hell if he knew. Or he could call animal control, they could take care of it. It would take them awhile to get here though, even for him. The thing could wander off before then. Or decide it really wanted to gnaw a chunk out of his face instead of just stare at him.

He felt his brow furrow in frustration, wracking his not inconsiderable intellect for any ideas as to how to rid his home of the animal gracing his kitchen. Coming up empty and with little else to do, he found himself glaring viscously at the foul creature, willing it to leave with nothing more then the force of his ire. "You're not supposed to be here. Go away."

The cat just continued staring at him.

"Hey, you! Get out! Get out of my kitchen you vile demon!"

The shouting seemed even less effective, leading to the kitten merely lifting one tiny paw to lick the pads of its toes, seemingly unconcerned.

He wondered if it was trying to distract him, attempting to appear harmless but he could see the manipulation for what it was. A cunning ruse to cover up its bestial, violent ways in a display of cuteness. He would be damned if he fell for its tactics.

"I tell you what. You seem like a rather smart... thing. You leave now, no fuss no muss, and I'll cut you a deal. Your very own cardboard box down in the lobby and all the food you could ever want. I won't even get mad if you attack everyone's ankles on their way in. Especially Fury's, you can tear up the hems of every pair of pants he owns for all I care. So, what d'you think, we golden?

The cat had finished its cleaning and looked up at him, letting out a soft mewl.

"You are a clever one, you've made that clear. But nothing you do will ever convince me that you are not a savage monster." He felt his resolve wavering as he looked down at the small creature, it's eyelids drifting closed. "I don't care how cute you act, or innocent you seem..."

The kitten's mouth gaped on a quiet yawn and its eyes blinked slowly.

"...no matter how soft your fur looks... No! You're a tiny little fiend just waiting for me to drop my guard so you can scratch out my eyes and sleep in my bed. I won't fall for it! Not gonna happen!"

The small creature had curled up on itself, lying in a circle, it's tail wrapped around its head and its face tucked into its haunches. It was not adorable. Not at all.

"You- You're not cute. You think you are, but you're not. Not at all..." He took a cautious step forward, intending to prod the thing to be sure it was a sleep, not to stroke a finger across it's back, of course not. And the sound that came out of his mouth when the cat arched its back slightly and purred was not a coo, he would vehemently oppose anyone who said otherwise. And if he picked the thing up and cradled it in the crook of his elbow, it was only because he wanted to get it out of his home while it was unconscious. It was vulnerable in its exhausted state so now was the time to dispose of it. It had nothing to do with wanting to find out if it was as soft and warm as it looked, nothing at all.

He stood in the kitchen, gazing at the thing with affectionate distrustful eyes, waiting for it to wake and lash out with bloodthirsty intent, but it just slumbered on, soft vibrations in its chest as it purred. Or maybe snored. He didn't notice the large blonde man enter the room until a voice startled him.

"Oh, hey Tony!"

"Wha- Steve?"

The big man stopped in front of him, glancing down at the lump of fur curled in his arm. "Oh, you found the kitten, you weren't supposed to know about that." Steve rubbed a hand over the side of his neck, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I found her out in an alley. I was gonna take her over to an animal shelter, but I wanted to get her cleaned up first, maybe feed her too. I meant to get her out out of here before you left your lab, but she didn't really like the water though so I had to go change my shirt after she soaked it. Here, I can take her."

The hulking man reached out and took the tiny creature, tucking it into his arm much like Tony had just done, dwarfing the kitten even more and somehow making it look even more adorable weak. The sight distracted him long enough that he didn't protest as the creature was taken away.

"Well, I'm gonna get going," Steve was saying over his shoulder. "I'm sorry again about this."

Still in shock, he just stood there staring as his friend headed toward the elevator for a few more moments before his brain finally kicked in and he started forward with a shout. "Ah, wait Steve!"

But it was too late. The doors closed right before he spoke, although Steve seemed too distracted by the cat to have heard him anyway.

His stomach felt all twisty with a sensation that he knew was disappointment as much as he wished he could deny it.

Had he actually gotten... attached?... to that thing?

No, that couldn't be it. The urge to run after Steve and steal that cat away from him was just because he wanted to ensure himself that it was disposed of properly. There also had to be a logical reason as to why he wished he had taken the thing away immediately, run out to the store and bought food and water bowls, cat food, litter, a little collar with a bell on it, or, hell, he could've gone down to the lab and made a custom collar, in bright red with a mini locator so the thing would never get lost, and maybe even bring it down into the lab so it could play with You and Dummy and he could-

He derailed that train of thought instantly, realizing suddenly how gone he was. He wanted the thing. Maybe it was because he had never had a pet. Maybe because this one didn't seem so violent and malicious like every other feline he had ever come across. Maybe because it was an evil mastermind that had tricked him with its poisonous breath. Maybe it really just was that cute. Whatever the reason, he was won over. Persuaded. Convinced. And he couldn't talk himself out of it anymore.

"Damn."


	2. Chapter 2 Steve

There was a kitten on the countertop.

Wait, what?

He looked again. Nope, still there. Right in the center of the island was the self-same cat he had just rescued from the alley that morning. But he had brought it to the shelter just a few hours ago, right? Maybe he was hallucinating. He was hungry after all.

In fact that was why he had come into the kitchen in the first place: He was hungry. Ever since the serum his metabolism had become so strong he felt like he could eat constantly all day long and never get full. He didn't need to eat that much - the serum could allow him to go days without eating and still not run out of energy, but when it was available, he'd eat more food in a day than he had in a week as a scrawny asthmatic with a heart palpitation. So it didn't matter that it was two in the afternoon and he had just finished lunch a couple of hours ago. He was hungry.

Thankfully, the communal kitchen was always stocked with anything anyone could want: raw meat and vegetables for cooking, a plethora of spices, breakfast cereals, snacks, desserts, take-out menus, leftovers, fruit, bread, sandwich toppings... on and on the list went. It was a dream come true for someone who'd lived through the Great Depression and a war, with small portions and rations at all times.

So he had been striding into the kitchen with purpose, eyes focused on the refrigerator with the intent of throwing something in the microwave (Maybe that leftover Chinese food from the other day, that was good) when he had been taken by surprise. In his intensity he almost missed the soft sound emanating from the island countertop. He had turned with startled eyes and stood in bewilderment when he saw what was there.

There was a kitten on the countertop. And he was positive that it was the same one from this morning that he had taken to a shelter just hours earlier. How had it gotten back to the tower?

He shook his head to be rid of that thought; he could figure it out later. Right now there was a bigger problem - he needed to get it out of here. Tony hated cats. If he found it in the apartment for the second time in a day he'd throw a fit. It wasn't like Steve was scared of Tony, but he would rather stay on the man's good side, especially since they had finally begun getting along the last few weeks. He didn't want to throw a wrench in it.

Just then, the man in question walked into the kitchen and in a panic Steve rushed forward to pick up the kitten, curling protectively around it.

"I'm so sorry Tony! I swear I took it to the shelter, I don't know what it's doing here!" he babbled frantically.

"Steve, it's fine." Tony sounded calm, a hand gesturing placatingly.

The show of patience was surprising, despite having seen the genius acting calmly far more frequently lately. But Steve had started this mess and he wasn't about to inconvenience his host with it. "No, it's not. I told you it would be gone and it's still here. How did it even get back?"

The last part was muttered more to himself than anything else as he adjusted the cat in his arms, looking down at it and still utterly confused.

Tony chuckled and looked up at Steve with a grin. "Because I brought it back."

Well that was unexpected. "...What?"

Tony was still smiling lightly, eyes dancing around and hands gesturing. "Yeah. I dunno, I like the fuzzball for some reason. I'm just as surprised as you are but after you left I realized I actually didn't mind it as much as I thought I would. It's even kinda cute. So I went out there after lunch and bought it from the shelter. Frankly, I'm a little lost as to how to take care of it, though, so I was trying to find someone to help me out."

"Oh." He was flabbergasted. This was terribly out of character for the eccentric genius. He had always seemed to think of his robots as his pets and thought they were entirely suitable. The idea of having a real live animal in the tower had never even seemed to occurred to the man. Now he was taking the initiative to get a cat of all things? One of the creatures he despised most? Steve wasn't really sure how to handle it, but he recognized a request for assistance and instinctively acted to help, even while his brain was still trying to catch up. "Well, I've never owned a cat before, but Bucky and I used to feed our neighbor's cat sometimes when she had to work late."

"Yeah?" The genius's eyes lit up. "Think you could help me out a bit? The only things I know it needs is food, water, and someplace to take a crap."

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "Classy, Tony."

"What? It's accurate." Tony said, a smile plastered across his face.

Steve smiled in return. "Yeah, yeah. I can help you out. You'll have to take us to a store though, I wouldn't know where to start looking for stuff for a cat in this day and age. Once we're there we can figure it out together. Can't be that hard, can it?"

"Nah, course not. Piece a cake. Let me grab a jacket and then we'll go." Tony began walking out of the kitchen, toward the elevator that would take him up to his suite. "JARVIS! Where's the closest pet shop?"

Steve shook his head, a smile dancing across his lips. He looked down at the kitten in his arms.

"I hope you've got spunk, cause you're gonna need it to survive around here."

It just looked at him and meowed.

 **NOTES:**

Steve is so hard for me to write. Because I know that he's a real good guy, but he's also sarcastic as hell and a total badass. And a man. For some reason I find it so hard to write him. I keep wanting to go the simple route and make him that super sweet and kind, blushing guy who's always clueless and lonely. But that is so NOT Steve. I don't care how good he is, he's also sassy and strong and stubborn. I hate the fics that make him look like some sort of pushover, Steve Rogers is a tough guy. And for some reason that combination is hard for me to write.

And incase you were wondering, this is what I imagine the cat looks like, at least in fur coloring:

pictures/originals/2013/Animals_Cats_Black_and_white_Kitten_with_blue_eyes_044342_.jpg

But I think the body shape would look more like fs70/i/2010/014/2/0/Black_kitten_by_


	3. Chapter 3 Natasha

There was a kitten on the countertop.

Wait, what?

She looked again, a little irritated that she needed to look twice, but the sight she confirmed was so bizarre and unexpected that it was no wonder she hadn't quite believed it at first glance. So she looked a second time and confirmed that her eyes had not lied to her; it was there.

It was a tiny thing, mottled gray and black, like a cloudy night. It's bright green eyes were looking at her with curiosity, tail wrapped around its feet where it sat primly on the kitchen island. Its paws were delicate, pressing lightly to the marble surface with the weight of its petite but slightly chubby body, as a kitten's was wont to be. Black ears were perked forward, listening for any sounds she might be making but it remained utterly motionless.

It was watching her. Small green eyes with vertical pupils stared into grey-blue irises for long moments. Both stood unnaturally still, reading each other's faces. It was quiet in the room, not even a rustling of cloth. Her breathing was soft and measured, the cat's lungs too small to let out any noise audible to a human ear, even ones as sharp as her own. Neither of them moved, eyes staying locked.

She was at an utter loss as to what to do next. She held a certain affection for cats, admired their wiliness and hunting skills. And their ability to sneak around silently with deadly intent, taking down their oblivious and ignorant prey. She supposed she felt an affinity with them. But this was a kitten, a baby who had no such abilities yet. It was a meek and fragile thing with no strength or cunning to fight with. She had no similarities to this thing, no way of understanding this creature until it had grown. She could destroy it and walk away without a scratch; it posed no threat to her.

Everything was a threat to her. So she was having a hard time deciding what to do with this... non-threat.

In an effort to discover more about it, she suddenly crouched low, moving swiftly and smoothly watching for a reaction. The teeny feline's eyes followed her descent with speedy accuracy, never leaving her eyes, but otherwise remained passive.

So, not easily startled.

She lunged forward, one arm pulled back as if to strike, stopping within inches of the edge of the counter.

Once again, it's eyes followed the sudden movement, but the kitten neither recoiled or attacked.

In fact, she was not even sure if it had blinked with her close proximity.

Not afraid of threats, then, or at least totally innocent to the idea of threats. So either it had no sense of self-preservation or it was fearless, a brave and confident animal. Were it the latter, she would be highly impressed that such a young thing could have such strength, although the former would not surprise her. Just another dumb creature in a world of them.

She straightened up as she heard footsteps approaching, light and smooth. Stark, then. Clint tread softly, but there was weight to it. Rogers too, but the archer had a distinctive sound - he always stepped with his toes first. Banner walked quietly, like he was hiding, but his feet were always bare so they tended to slap the floor more. And Thor, when he was here anyway, well he didn't stomp around like you would think - he had a natural grace to him, being a warrior - but you could smell ozone from a hundred feet away. So those surprisingly graceful and light steps were Starks.

She stayed facing the cat, but backed off a step. Just as the genius walked into the room, she spoke softly, holding back a grin when she felt the man startle behind her.

"There is a cat in here."

"Holy geez! Do you ever greet people like a normal person?"

She ignored the exaggerated labored breathing. "There is a cat."

"Yeah, I can see that. Why are you staring at it like it's about to eat your face?"

"You're not surprised. So you already knew it was here. Why?" She kept her eyes trained on the kitten who was still staring back at her with the same calm expression it had held the entire time.

She sensed Stark stepping forward to stand next to her, his face turned to look at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shrug before turning to look at the creature in question.

"I like it. It's cute and not a vicious deadly demon like I thought it would be."

She grunted, not revealing her thoughts with words. It wasn't hard since she still wasn't sure how she felt about it. Stark stood for a moment longer before refilling his mug of coffee and walking out again, throwing a two-finger salute over his shoulder.

She and the cat continued to stare at one another. Slowly, she crept forward until her hips were flush with the island. The cat kept staring, their eyes still locked. She slowly reached out a hand, running a finger across its forehead, rubbing the crown of its head between the ears. It purred suddenly, eyes slipping closed and it lifted its head into the sensation.

She pulled her hand back, startled, and it opened its eyes and mewled in a way that somehow came across as adorably plaintive.

"Huh."

-

 **NOTES:**

Here's the tiny little fiend's eyes! :

I love whenever writers write from Natasha's POV. I find her mind so fascinating and I love her personality. I think as much as she acts otherwise, that there's a lot of room in her for affection and love, she's just had to bury it out of necessity. But I think she's got the potential to be the most tender and protective out of all of them in her own quiet and subtle ways.

I had fun writing her, trying to make even the narrative parts sound like what I think it would be in her head. I hope you enjoyed it :)


	4. Chapter 4 Bruce

There was a kitten on the countertop.

Wait, what?

He stood there blinking, surprised, although surprised that he was surprised. Out of all the strange things he had seen in his life, out of all the strange things he had seen just since moving into the tower, you would think a kitten would rank rather low on the list. However, this was probably the last place he would have expected to find a cat. The owner of this building was not known for having any affection for animals.

Although, there was no reason to think that Tony even knew it was here. It wouldn't surprise him if Steve or maybe Clint had found it out on the street and was just taking care of it temporarily. Not that it explained why no one was here doting on it or what it was doing on the kitchen island. Still, stranger things had happened, although maybe not this specific brand of strange.

He startled when a soft meow reached his ears, but looked down at the small creature. It stared up at him with bright green eyes that swam with facets of light and color, a thousand shades strewn throughout. So unlike the fluorescent green of The Other Guy. He stepped forward, leaning a forearm on the chill marble surface, speaking softly.

"Now where did you come from?"

He ran a finger across the small head, scratching behind its ears and dragging down its spine over and over, feeling each little vertebrae. It arched its back, purring madly while its eyes drifted shut in pleasure. It's tail curled up to wrap around his hand whenever it got close enough.

"You must be either extremely lost or extremely lucky to have made it up here. And brave if you think this is a good place to hang out. You do know this is probably the most dangerous place you could ever end up? I mean, just me could kill you easily, but everyone else? You are in the home of four trained killers and two amateurs who probably have a bigger kill count than most of those experts. Except for Thor. Hard to top the death toll of a god who's been around for a few centuries."

The cat just blinked at him, then tilted its head into his hand, requesting more petting. He complied with a smile.

"You like attention? I suppose you would, you're just a baby after all." He sighed deeply. "Let me tell you something, kid. This is a tough world. It's not so easy to get love and affection anymore. And I can't fathom why you would want to try and get it here. These people, well... They're somethin' special but they're not exactly..." He stopped, brow furrowing as he stumbled for words.

He didn't see the slight form slip into the room behind him, a shock of red hair that shifted as she stopped quickly, taking in the sight before her. She watched silently as he spoke again.

"Well, none of us have really known what family is supposed to be like. I don't think any of us really know how that works, having never been part of a normal one. But... well, we're trying. I'm trying. So, we're probably gonna screw up, we're gonna piss each other off and make mistakes, but we'll work it out. We have to work it out, and not just because we're a team, but because we're all any of us has left. We're each others' last chance. So we're gonna make it work, no matter how weird or abnormal or crazy it is." He chuckled, dark curls bouncing as he shook his head. "Cause let's face it, we are the farthest thing from normal. But... we trust each other. Maybe even care about one another. And we're trying. To be a family."

She was perfectly still, holding her breath, at a loss. None of them had said anything about this. Not out loud. Maybe she hadn't been the only one thinking it, though. Maybe they all were.

"So it's probably not the best place for you to try your luck at getting a good, loving home. But it isn't so bad either. Just remember, we're all crazy. And dangerous. And you're puny. So keep that in mind and you might just make it. Oh, and don't forget..."

A soft smile had spread across her face, small, but bright for those who knew how to read her expressions well. She let herself slip out of the room silently as he kept murmuring softly to the little creature. She didn't interrupt; she didn't want to risk the chance of him losing the smile gracing his own face.

 **NOTES:**


	5. Chapter 5 Clint

There was a kitten on the countertop.

Wait, what?

Okay. So that's a little strange. He's dealt with stranger, nothing he can't figure out. Still, a kitten? In the tower. On the countertop. Seemed highly unlikely.

It was probably Steve.

He'd come into the kitchen after his latest mission for SHIELD practically starving. He couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten. Two days ago? Three? Whatever, he'd come into the communal kitchen on a mission of his own and had marched straight for the refrigerator to pull out whatever leftovers he could find (claimed or not), threw them all in the microwave, and padded around grabbing a plate and a fork and getting himself something to drink. He promptly dumped the contents of all the containers together in a giant mountain of food and plunked himself on the nearest bar stool to start shoveling it into his mouth, proud of himself that he had managed to not only heat up the food but grab a napkin and a fork and a drink too. Sometimes after missions he didn't even accomplish that.

So, yeah. Eating. With vigor and passion unlike anything else, trying hard not to moan out loud with joy and pleasure, when he finally happened to open his eyes and look up only to be greeted by the sight of a miniature cat staring calmly up at him.

He paused, fork halfway to his lips and his mouth full of mushu pork, mid-chew. And stared. The cat stared back.

They sat there silently for a time, neither moving or blinking. Slowly, he started to chew again, after realizing that the food was turning soggy, and swallowed, never removing his eyes from the creature in front of him.

Where had it come from? Why was it just sitting here all by itself? He lowered the hand holding his fork and rested it on the surface of the island, arms braced around his plate, shoulders hunched as he continued the contest of fortitude with the feline in front of him.

The kitten flicked its eyes down to the food on his plate, then back to his eyes.

"Oh, no! You are not touching my dinner-slash-gift from God. I earned this fair and square."

Its eyes flicked back to the plate, then back again to his face.

"Uh uh. Mine." He's not ashamed to say that he curled over the bounty protectively and growled.

The cat leaned forward till it was standing on all four legs, spine arched and crouched low to the table.

"What do you think you're doing? You stay away! You can get your own dinner! Go catch a mouse or something. What are you doi- No! Wait, stop it! Ow, ow! Get off of me, you little fiend!"

Down the hall, a certain scientist was on his way to the kitchen to grab some tea when he heard irritated grumbling. He turned the corner and drew up short to take in the scene. Clint sat at the island, perched on a stool, while a plate had been knocked around and food was littering the countertop. He was hunched low over the marble surface and the mysterious kitten from earlier was draped lazily across the archer's head while he stabbed the food still remaining on his plate angrily and mumbled something about "a goddamn mooching squirt with claws for feet."

Bruce couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.

He looked up quickly when he heard someone laughing. "You. Just- shut up, okay. It was either placate the greedy bastard with affection or let it eat my food. I'm hungry, Bruce, I couldn't let it near my dinner."

By this point, the older man was outright laughing, tears of mirth leaking passed his closed lids. It took him full minutes to calm down as the archer continued eating sullenly. The scientist finally looked up at him, but didn't say anything. Just shook his head with a smile and proceeded to grab a mug of hot water and a packet of tea. He left the room with a wave, still giggling.

"You're a jerk. I don't like you at all."

The kitten just mewled.

 **NOTES:**


	6. Chapter 6 Thor

There was a small, furry creature on the countertop.

Wait, what?

Ah! Yes, there was a tiny animal sitting on the stone table in the kitchen. It looked similar to something he had seen throughout his journeys of the Nine Realms, but he couldn't remember which planet it had been on. And besides, it still wasn't quite right in appearance. Firstly, this creature was far too small. What he remembered had been a great hulking thing, nearly nine feet tall and bristling with fury. Unlike the one he had met before that had possessed a vicious maw of razor sharp fangs and rank with the odor of rotting flesh, its wiry fur matted with blood and dirt, this thing before him presently appeared to be rather soft and delicate. "Cute," his human companions would likely refer to it as.

It seemed strange to find such a thing within the Tower, however. He did not recall his friend Stark as being a man fond of animals, least of all to such a degree that he would choose to keep one in his home as a companion. He gathered that whoever had brought it inside had done so without their host's awareness or permission. He wondered what the genius's reaction would be if he discovered it.

Well, he was an honorable warrior and would never betray a companion's secret. If there was a need for the tiny Midgardian creature to be in the Tower he would not forsake a trust.

He was, however, curios about the creature's identity and origins. Who had brought it inside? And why place it on a surface where food is to be prepared? He wasn't exactly known for being as particular and worried about cleanliness as many of the humans here seemed to be, but even he would not have permitted a live animal onto his table.

But the thing did not appear to be dirty in any way and it wasn't doing anything harmful. Merely sitting and watching him with bright, large eyes. They were a beautiful, sparkling shade of green, he noticed, full of a thousand facets of color and light. They were like Springtime back home when the light was more white than yellow and everything was bursting with new growth and bathed in drops of dew each morning. Such magnificent eyes!

He brought his large frame down for a closer look, leaning his arms across the stone surface and gazing at the small creature, a slight smile gracing his features.

"Hello there, small one. You do not seem a usual companion to a kitchen. Where might you have come from?" He spoke softly, not wanting to spook the creature, in case it was timid or easily frightened. It didn't react much, just tilted it's head slightly with the new angle, eyes never leaving his own bright blue ones.

"Friend Stark might not like you being here. I am told he is not terribly fond of things with fur. Although yours appears to be quite soft. I think even a man as stubborn as he would be swayed by you, given enough time. You seem like quite a sweet tempered thing, and very... cute."

"Who's cute?" The Hawk-eyed one had just entered the kitchen, rounding the corner nearly silently as was usually the case, his bow and quiver slung over his back and sweat beading on his brow. Just come from training, likely as not.

"I was referring to this small creature I found on the... island?" Midgardian terms were always so strange, though aptly so at times. He supposed a random, unconnected surface in the middle of the room was much like a body of land in the middle of the ocean.

"Oh, so you found the kitten too." The other man had retrieved a brightly colored drink from the fridge and was leaning against the counter, taking small sips, but his eyes were trained on the newly named creature.

"Kitten? That is what this is called?"

"Yeah. It's a baby cat. I suppose you probably haven't seen terribly many animals on Earth, having been in New York for the most part. And pigeons don't really count." He chuckled to himself, as if making a joke.

"Do they grow very large?"

"Pigeons?"

"No, these cats, as you call them."

"Ah. No, not really. At least not this type of cat. There are large breeds, wild cats like tigers, lions, panthers. But the ones people keep as pets don't usually get to be much more than ten pounds or so, maybe a foot or two high. Why do you ask?"

He began chuckling to himself. "I recall having heard the name before in a pet store and was wondering. I believe while in New Mexico I may have requested for one large enough to ride."

The Hawkeyed one looked at him blankly for a moment before a grin spread across his face and he began chuckling as well. "Man, I wish I could have seen the look on the man's face when you asked him that. Can't blame you, though. I'd probably ask way dumber stuff than that if I landed on a new planet."

He just smiled in return, grateful for the comment. The other Avengers, his companions, were usually quite patient and understanding with him in his process of learning more about Midgardian ways and life. Some people were not always so, often laughing at him for silly mistakes. His friends still laughed at times too, at particularly ridiculous occurrences, but never in such a way that he felt mocked or belittled. It was much like how one laughed when looking back at their own blunders and silly mistakes. They were simply sharing in the mirth at the humor in the situation, not jeering at him as if he were unintelligent. It was nice and he was grateful for its familiarity, its similarity to his friendship with Sif and the others, with what he had once had with his brother.

He didn't wish to dwell on such sad thoughts, though, so he turned to look back at the kitten on the countertop. "Do you know how it came to be here?" he asked Barton.

"Nah, probably Steve. He seems like the type to pick up strays."

He grunted in reply, reaching out a finger to stroke the young cat's head. It stretched its neck forward, pushing itself into the sensation, a gentle rumble coming from its throat. He watched it purring for awhile, smiling softly. "It is a handsome little thing."

Barton, still leaning back against the counter, took another sip of his drink and replied firmly and cheerfully. "Yeah it is." 

-

 **NOTES:**


	7. Chapter 7 Avengers

There was a kitten on the countertop.

No one was surprised this time.

The members of the Avengers were gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, all in various states of dress and wakefulness, but all watching the new addition to the Tower.

Tony was slumped over the island, arms curled protectively around a mug of coffee with his head resting on his bicep, eyes slipping shut periodically.

Steve sat to his left, scooping up eggs and sausage from his plate while he stared contemplatively between the kitten and his genius friend, still trying to figure out why the man had suddenly decided to keep a pet.

Natasha was leaning against the fridge, one foot propped up against it underneath her and arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't eating. It amused her to hear all the theories Tony came up with about what she ate for breakfast (her favorite so far was the tears of SHIELD interns), so she never ate in the morning when he was around.

Bruce sat on the stool across from Tony with a cup of tea, some yogurt, and a faint smile. His genius brain hadn't taken long to realize how the kitten had really come to be here; he knew his fellow science companion rather well, after all.

Clint was sitting on the countertop with a bowl of cereal, staring intently at the little fiend where it sat primly, tail curled around its feet and looking around at all of them. He was still suspicious. Nothing could be that cute and completely innocent.

Thor stood near the toaster, a pile of pop tarts next to it and one in his hand that he munched on happily, a broad grin on his face for the tiny Midgardian creature.

The six of them had wandered into the room one-by-one to retrieve their various breakfasts and, for once, had been sitting quietly ever since. It was the first time they had all been together with the creature and none of them wanted to be the first to bring it up.

Eventually, though, Clint couldn't take the silence.

"Okay, Steve was it you?"

"Huh? Was what me?"

"The cat. You brought here didn't you? Why isn't Tony saying anything about it?"

"Well-" Steve tried to answer but Clint kept charging on.

"I mean he hates animals. I know he's usually pretty comatose in the mornings, but I had thought this would rouse him for sure."

"Uh..."

"Because I'm the one who brought it here." A muffled, grumbly voice had filtered its way through crossed arms and squirmed around a coffee mug to resonate softly in the quiet room. Tony hadn't even moved.

All eyes turned to stare at him.

"...What?"

In the still pause that followed, the kitten suddenly stood up on its feet and began to stalk forward, heading straight toward Tony. The Avengers all turned their stares to the tiny creature, breaths held as it nuzzled its tiny nose into Tony's forearm.

The genius lifted his head just enough to make eye contact with the feline and then everyone's eyes widened in shock when a tiny, soft smile graced the genius's face. He stretched out a hand and ran a finger over the kitten's head until it purred contentedly and pressed against the touch.

"...Oh." Clint looked floored.

Bruce, rather less surprised than the rest of the team, spoke up. "It needs a name if it's going to stay here."

"I vote fiend. That thing is a miniature monster."

"Clint." Steve looked at him sternly before turning back to the cat, a softer expression sliding onto his face. "What about Shadow? He's got such a beautiful grey color."

Natasha spoke up softly, surprising a few people. She didn't normally share her opinion unless asked. "I like Shadow."

Thor boomed from the corner of the room. "I believe a name like Shadow is unbecoming of such a magnificent creature. Perhaps the name of an Asgardian hero would be more fitting?"

"Agent." Tony spoke softly, chin propped on his forearm while he continued to scratch at the kittens neck and head, with a gentle smile and a touch of sadness in his eyes.

Everyone else fell silent, remembering that Tony had only ever used that term to refer to one person in particular. No one made any new suggestions and they all quickly got lost in their own memories, some fond, some exasperated, some sad, some happy.

After a moment, Steve spoke up, using his best command voice. "Agent it is."

Agent looked at him and meowed. 

-

 **NOTES:**


	8. Chapter 8 Fury

There was a kitten on the countertop.

 _Wait, what?_

Nope, still there.

 _What the hell?_

He had come to the tower to track down a certain pair of assassins who had as of yet to turn in their reports on their latest SHIELD mission. The owner of the tower, however, only allowed him access to the communal floor, so he had to wait for the pair to come to him. He'd gone into the kitchen to grab something to drink while he waited when his one eye had zeroed in on a particularly odd sight.

He hadn't gotten to be director of a national security organization for nothing and with all the strange things he had seen in his life you would think a cat would be rather low on the list of things that could surprise him, but he had literally stopped in his tracks and stared at the tiny creature sitting primly on the kitchen island. It's green eyes stared up at him curiously, head tilted slightly and the tip of its tail flicking subtly.

He leaned forward to glare at it. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The kitten's head straightened and tilted to the opposite side, its eyes blinking rapidly once or twice.

He grunted, huffing out a breath through his nose before straightening, his hands clasped in the small of his back. He continued into the room, turning his back on the creature while he hunted down the drink he had come into the room to retrieve. He stared moodily over the rim of the glass while he drank, watching as the kitten stood up and began to walk in circles, batting at the end of its tail over and over again as it spun. It began stumbling around, seemingly having made itself dizzy, and tumbled onto the marble surface, lying prone on its side.

If anyone else had been in the room, they would have been witnesses to the rare sight of the normally serious man smiling, just a slight upward quirk of his lips on one side, while he leaned back against the cabinets, arms crossed over his chest.

The kitten was attempting to pick its head up and look around without much success and he couldn't help the snicker that escaped as he watched it struggle to its feet on wobbly legs.

"You're not very graceful are you?" he remarked.

The cat marched itself over to the edge of the countertop where it promptly sat back on its haunches and mewled up at him plaintively.

"What do you want _me_ to do about it?" he asked.

The kitten was wriggling, muscles tensing and bunching while it rose up onto its feet in a low crouch, eyes focused. He watched intently as it prepared itself and then leaped through the air, claws extended, and latched onto the front of his jacked, clinging to the leather moulded across his frame where his arms had been moments earlier. They were now stretched out away from his body, held awkwardly at his sides, glass still clutched in one hand, while he looked down at this strange creature with confusion. It turned shimmering green eyes up to his face and stared.

"...Well? What do you want?"

The kitten mewled again but otherwise kept its thoughts to itself.

He sighed. "I thought as much."

A slim figure with red hair walked in a moment later, her only reaction a raised eyebrow.

"Not a word, Romanoff. Not a word."


	9. Chapter 9 Bucky

A/N: so, I've really been neglecting my profile on this site. 3Days2Live just followed this story and reminded me that I've written two more chapters for this and never uploaded them. My bad. This is effectively the end of the fic because I haven't felt any desire to add to it in years and the last line is kind of a "conclusion" anyway. Thanks for reading! And sorry to those of you who've probably been waiting for more of this for a _really_ long time.

* * *

There was a kitten on the countertop.

 _Wait, what?_

No, his eyes were right, as always. He glanced around the room in confusion, hoping someone else might be around to give an explanation, but for once Steve wasn't following him everywhere and the communal kitchen was strangely vacant.

He moved forward to sit on one of the stools that surrounded the island, resting his crossed arms on the marble surface and gazing down at the tiny, dark-furred creature. It was lying down, all four feet pressed into the counter and its body curled up on top of them like a sphinx. Multi-faceted green eyes were looking at him carefully but sat quietly for a few minutes just watching the kitten as it began to clean its paws and lick its fur till it shone.

He had been in the tower for a few weeks already and had learned that the happenings in the Tower were rarely what anyone would classify as "normal." It was to be expected with six superheroes as permanent residents, secret spy agents visiting frequently, and the occasional night's stay from world-class scientists, high-ranking military officers, unofficial heroes, and, now, one live-in ex-Hydra assassin. But still, even with all that weirdness, a cat was new.

He wasn't complaining, though. He loved cats. He and Steve had taken care of their neighbor's cat sometimes and he had always enjoyed it. Stevie used to make fun of him for always stopping to pet the alley cats and strays that wandered the city, sometimes distracting himself so much that he ended up late to school or work. He couldn't count the number of times he had run home with one stuffed under his coat in the pouring rain, desperate to keep it warm and dry just until the weather cleared. He never could afford to keep one for himself, though, and he had forgotten how upset that had always made him right up until the moment he saw the tiny black creature curled up on the countertop.

Long moments later, he stretched out a hand and ran a finger along the crown of the kitten's head, scratching between its ears. It purred happily, eyes half closed in bliss, and he couldn't help the small smile that graced his face. He started running his finger around, scratching at its neck, back, hind legs, and batting at its tail when it tried to curl around his finger.

Suddenly it jumped up and pawed at his hand, clutching on with needle-like claws and nipping at his soft flesh with its teeth. The tiny mouth gripped his hand and gnawed for a bit, clinging tightly like it was trying to hold still some struggling prey. He found himself grinning as he watched it battle its imaginary foe, letting his fingers twitch intermittently just to watch the cat readjust frantically and hold on all the tighter.

It was Tony who found him like that, nearly an hour later, the kitten still playing happily with its new chew toy and the former Hydra asset grinning broadly. The genius's eyes took the whole scene in and quickly realized that he had finally found something that made the man seem more human, had found a weakness. Now he had bribing power and quite possibly a way to finally persuade the man into let him have a look at that arm, which he hadn't been able to touch since the Soldier had arrived weeks earlier.

"Keeping that tiny fiend was the best idea I've ever had," he smiled smugly to himself.


End file.
